After the War
by Elizabeth Notrab
Summary: Subtitled 'Enlightening the Subconcious.' Rating for some violence. Hermione's point of view. Flicks back and forth in time. Hope it's not too confusing. Enojy!


As Hermione stood in front of the simple cross that marked his grave, the flood washed over her again. This was what he wanted. Just a cross and a plaque with his name on it. Modest to the last, she thought ruefully. Tears stung her eyes and she turned her head upward, hoping that gravity wouldn't let them fall.  
  
Everything had happened so fast after the end of their fourth year. Voldemort had been biding his time for thirteen years it had taken him to regain his body, and it didn't seem like he would wait any longer. People had joined Voldemort when they heard that he had risen to power again. Hermione knew they would. People always want the chance to be as bigoted as possible. People were stupid that way.  
  
She looked around the graveyard. One of the new ones filled solely with the bodies of those that died fighting the Dark Lord. There were so many headstones. And so many of the dates on them added to less than thirty years. 'Why are you here?' asked a voice in the back of her head. And she couldn't answer it. She just wanted to stand here and wish that she were under the ground too. Or maybe she just wanted to be near him again.  
  
~  
  
They were only seventeen and they were already preparing for what was sure to be the biggest battle of their lives. Harry and Ron were joking, as always. Hermione knew that it was too lessen the tension and anxiety, but that didn't make her wish that they would do it any less. It made her nervous. As if when she died, she would stand in judgment and be damned to Hell because she hadn't stopped joking about one of the most serious things in the world: death.  
  
"Harry?" Hermione asked in one of the awkward silences between wise cracks. He looked at her. "Would you use an unforgivable curse on someone?"  
  
"Yes. In a heartbeat, if it meant that I would be alive to help the fight. But only Avada Kadavra. And only if I couldn't do anything else," he answered. They way he said it made Hermione guess that he had thought about it. A lot. She had too, and had come to the same conclusion. Over the years, she and Harry had developed that kind of relationship where they wouldn't ever dream of ruining it with romantic thoughts. They were closer as friends than they could ever be as lovers.  
  
"I wouldn't." Hermione had just turned to Ron to ask him the same question and he answered before she could open her mouth. "All those Death Eaters - or at least most of them - were once someone's son, daughter, sister or brother. I'd never want to kill anyone of them, because I would have to live the rest of my life knowing that I had taken away someone's family." Hermione had looked at him in awe. It was all she could do.   
  
She knew what prompted these feelings in Ron - Percy had felt that the only way to get ahead was to join, Voldemort, the one person who could give him true power - but she thought that it would take him the other direction. She figured that Ron would want more than any of them to take down as many people as possible, responsible for Percy leaving the family. That just seemed more like Ron.  
  
The preparations this late in the timeline were really nothing more than going over every defense and hex they had ever learned. It was something that one could only do for so long before you knew that the only thing you could really do was wait...and the time for waiting had come for Harry, Ron, and Hermione.  
  
~  
  
Hermione looked at the flowers that she had lain down haphazardly on the grave. She had planned to just throw them down and leave, and that was why they were messy. But now that she was staying longer, she figured she might as well straighten them. She knelt down and arranged them quickly to look a little better than tthey had been. Suddenly, she felt the urge to say something.  
  
"Er - well - I guess I should just say that I'm sorry for not visiting more. But, I always felt a little guilty, and not welcome. I figured after a while that that was silly ('No sillier than talking to headstones,' said that voice in her head) because no one blamed me. They called me just as much a hero as you or anyone else who died. They all said I had to.   
  
"I know that you didn't blame me either. I think that's the only way I have been able to survive these past few - wait." She paused to think and do the math. "Can you believe it's only been a year since we graduated. Did anyone ever tell you that you graduated too even if you had already...er...died? Well Professor McGonagall said that the students who gave their lives had surpassed anyone's expectations in their education and they should be recognized too." A tear that had escaped ran silently down her cheek. She didn't bother to wipe it away. She suddenly felt a surge of familiar anger well up inside her.  
  
"Why did he have to attack before graduation? Why couldn't he have waited?" she   
demanded of the silent cross and plaque. Both just stared back at her, the same as ever. She was angrier with this than anything else. "We could have had that much longer together! No one was prepared! No one...had said...goodbye." The emotions had died away and they left her with the empty bitterness that was he constant companion now.  
  
"I guess that's why I was so mad. I didn't get to say goodbye."  
  
~   
  
Potions class was the same as always: tense. They were brewing a potion that would put anyone to sleep, just having it touch their skin. Professor Snape wasn't his usual nasty self. He seemed more compassionate - to a point - towards the houses other than his own. Perhaps this was because his house had dwindled so much since Voldemort's return. Every house had suffered losses, but Slytherin, by far, had given the most students to the Dark Lord's ranks.  
  
After the first hour, there was a loud ripping sound right above the school and people wearing dark hoods started apparating into Professor Snape's classroom. Some students screamed. Others just settled for looks of mad fear or pure hatred at the Death Eaters who were now blocking all exits. One of them stepped forward.  
  
"Ah, Severus, I see that the students were totally unawares. Very good, very good. You've done your job well and you will be rewarded." Hermione immediately recognized the voice of Lucius Malfoy. He then addressed the students. "Bet you never suspected that your very own Potions Master was a Death Eater, now, did you?" he asked condescendingly.  
  
"Actually, Lucius you would lose that bet. Quite a few of them knew. Your cauldrons, students, NOW!" Snape yelled. Hermione, understanding what he meant, picked up her cauldron and threw it at the nearest Death Eaters. Her potion hit three. Amongst the students in the class, the Death Eaters were all sound asleep and sure to stay that way for at least twelve hours.  
  
Snape then addressed the class. "We've known that today was the day when they would attack. We decided it would be best not to tell you students. Please forgive us. That ripping sound you heard was the Apparation Barrier being torn. The Death Eaters and Voldemort are now free to Apparate into the school. Now, follow me and God save our souls."  
  
~  
  
"I always wondered why Dumbledore didn't want to tell us. I suppose he wanted to keep it among as small a group as possible. But he could have at least told us. The ones in Professor Snape's class that day." Hermione sighed, half at the memory and half at herself for still talking to the cross and plaque. "Another case of 20/20 hindsight, I suppose."  
  
~  
  
It hadn't taken long for more Death Eaters to come after the first batch had been dispatched. Soon the school grounds were covered with dueling wizards and the dead. The fighting was very horrible and if the Hogwarts students were unsure of using the Unforgivable Curses, Voldemort's wizards were not. The sounds of torture were heard everywhere in the castle. And on the way upstairs to the common room, Hermione saw a Death Eater laughing as he watched as Dean Thomas, under the Imperius Curse, Torture Seamus Finnigan with the Cruciatus Curse. Hermione lit the Death Eater on fire as she walked up behind him on the stairs. Dean Thomas awoke from his trance and stared at Seamus lying on the floor in pain.  
  
"Dean, stop staring. He'll be fine, there are people that need your help downstairs," Hermione said, stopping to put a comforting arm around Dean. She fervently hoped that she hadn't lied about Seamus being all right.  
  
She reached the painting of the fat lady and muttered the password. The portrait swung open and Hermione saw Harry sitting in front of the fire staring into it. He was holing the sword of Godric Gryiffindor that he had pulled from the Sorting Hat in his second year. Hermione sat down beside him.  
  
"I should be down there with my friends," he said.  
  
"No, you should be right here where Dumbledore told you to be," Hermione replied. Before Harry could object, there was a scream outside and the painting swung open, admitting thick bluish smoke into the room. Percy Weasley stepped through the portrait hole and smiled wickedly at them. He had set the Fat Lady's picture on fire in order to be admitted.  
  
"Well, well, well. If it isn't ickle Rony-kins bestest best pals? God, it's been a long time since I've seen you guys!" he said, as if talking to someone at a reunion of some kind. "I guess we all know the reason. I just came up here to tell you that Master is looking for you. Not you, Mudblood," he said to Hermione, who flinched at the name, "You, Potter. But, I guess I'll just torture both of you since you're here..."   
  
Percy raised his wand, but before he could say anything, a voice behind him yelled "Petrificus Totalus!" Ron stepped out of the smoke and looked down at his brother with disgust. He then stepped over him to get to where Harry and Hermione were.  
  
"You-Know-Who is headed up this way. I saw him. I'm going out the other way and help in the fight. Good luck, you two." With that Ron ran outside again, careful not to step on his fallen brother.  
  
~  
  
"You know what?" Hermione asked the cross and plaque. "I'm not afraid to say his name anymore. It's as if once you faced him, you have nothing more to fear. Sort of anticlimactic, really. Not at all what I expected. I was all prepared to be terrified at the sight of him if I was terrified of his name. Well, I guess all that training came in handy, didn't it? Or maybe it's all just because he's dead and I know I have nothing to fear."   
  
The voice in the back of her head was begging her, demanding her, to stop talking to a grave. 'Why? It's not going to say anything back. People are staring. Stop this nonsense.'  
  
"Shut up," she said out loud. "It's therapeutic."  
  
~  
  
Voldemort was in the common room not two minutes later. Hermione was clutching   
Harry's arm. Voldemort laughed his cold, unfeeling laugh, and Hermione felt almost as chilled as if a Dementor had walked into the room.  
  
"Clinging to him won't help, Mudblood." He aimed his wand at Hermione.  
  
"Don't!" Harry shouted and pulled her behind him. "It's me you want. Let her go." As an afterthought he added, "At least for now. She's just a...mudblood." The last word was forced out between gritted teeth. All for show, Hermione thought to herself. Voldemort seemed to consider for a moment and then he inclined his head to one side. Hermione moved to the side of the room, trying to get as far away from the Dark Lord as possible. She didn't have to act scared the way Dumbledore had asked her too. She was sincerely terrified.  
  
She walked to the opening, and Voldemort seemed to have already forgotten she existed. Just what they'd hoped for. Hermioen pulled the sword of Gryffindor from her robes and walked quietly up behind Voldemort. She had forgotten all about Percy on the ground. He was no doubt summoning up all the Dark Magic he had learned to try to warn Voldemort. Hermione glared at him and brought the sword down into Voldemort's back and pulled it out again.  
  
The Dark Lord whirled around quickly for someone who had just been mortally wounded. He turned to the still-squeaking Percy. "Shut up, Weasley, I knew she was there all along. Just waiting to see whether she would hesitate or not. And she didn't." He turned back to Hermione. "Good show, but you should have lleft. Out there, you would have had a chance. I'm not giving you a second one." He raised his wand, but Harry blocked him once more by running between them.  
  
Like a well played chess game, the pieces had all fallen into place. Hermione was in position for checkmate. Unlike the chess game though, the window of opportunity was only open for a limited time. She had to act now.   
  
Hermione aimed the sword and ran forward, pushing the sword through Harry. She kept going forward, tears stinging her eyes, into Voldemort until both of them were impaled upon the sword of Gryffindor. She whispered, through her tears the tears now streaming down her face, "I'm so sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry." He smiled and then went limp.  
  
~  
  
The sun glinted off the plaque, making Harry's name seem to glow. "I know that it had to be done. It was the only way. Professor Trelawny's first prediction had been right and it killed that bastard. But I was too late for so many people. I guess you don't know what happened afterward. Well, er, the Death Eaters knew that Voldemort had died. Most likely through the Dark Mark on their arms. A lot of them stopped fighting and were terrified of what they knew was going to happen to them. Others fought harder than before. I guess they wanted to take as many of us with them as possible." Hermione sighed again as she thought back to the events of the beginning of the seventh year when she Harry and Ron had found out just what Professor Trelawny's first prediction had been.  
  
~  
  
"I have some very somber news," Professor Dumbledore had said. "Ever since Professor Trelawny made her prediction, we've been looking for some other way. Nothing presented itself. I didn't want to tell you and then find something later on and worry you for no reason, Harry. I also wanted you to be mature enough to understand the gravity of the situation."  
  
"What are you trying to tell me Professor Dumbledore? What was Professor Trelawny's first prediction?" Dumbledore looked very, very tired. He sighed very heavily.  
  
"Professor Trelawny predicted that the only successful weapon against Voldemort after his second rising would be the willing death of his greatest enemy." Harry had gone stiff between Ron and Hermione. Hermione was willing to bet that she was pretty stiff too. She knew exactly what Dumbledore was getting at. In order for Voldemort to die, Harry had to.  
  
"Then why would Voldemort try to kill Harry? He would make himself vulnerable," Ron said, unwilling to believe what Dumbledore had said.  
  
"The prediction specified a willing death," Dumbledore explained. "If Voldemort had succeed in killing Harry any of the times that he tried before, there would have theoretically been no stopping him."   
  
Hermione swallowed. "Er...Professor Dumbledore? I know we're Harry's friends and all, but isn't this the sort of thing that you tell someone when they're alone and then let them tell the other people?" she asked, dreading that somehow the whole thing could go from worse, to catastrophic. It did.  
  
"Good question, Hermione. I'm afraid the answer is not pleasant, though. Professor Trelawny specified that the only person who could carry out both these tasks would be one of Harry's best friends."  
  
Ron and Hermione looked at each other behind Harry's back. Although Hermione couldn't read minds, she was quite sure that Ron was thinking the same thing she was: I don't want to do it.  
  
"I'll let you three work it out. If any of you want to talk, my office is always open to you. I'm truly sorry about this. We're still looking, but at this late stage, I doubt much can be done. Aurors and other people willing to fight are being brought to Hogwarts as we speak. The war is coming." The three children got up and left as one.  
  
Hermione had sat up all night after that. She decided that Ron had already had to deal with the shock of Percy leaving, and while the effects didn't show, something like knowing he was going to kill his best friend would tip him over the edge.  
  
Ron had fought Hermione over the point the next morning, but eventually gave in. Hermione thought he looked very relieved.  
  
~  
  
"I think when you smiled that day, Harry, you forgave me," Hermione was saying to the cross and plaque. "Or maybe you forgave me before then. The only problem is, I was never worried about you forgiving me. I knew you would. I wasn't really worrying about God either. After all that's happened, Hell can't be much worse than this life. No, I just didn't know if I could forgive myself."  
  
The voice in the back of her head suddenly seemed enlightened. 'Oh that's why you're here,' it said. Hermione smiled genuinely for the first time in a long time. "Yes, that's why I'm here. I needed to talk about it. To the one person who would understand. Not even Ron would understand. I think my karma's clean, now, Harry. Thanks."  
  
Hermione turned and walked out of the cemetery feeling that maybe now the bitterness would finally fade. Maybe now the emptiness could finally be filled. Maybe now...  
  
The End.  
  
AN: Thus ends the writer's block that's plagued me since before GoF! I know, I know, this is not going to be popular. But don't flame me for it. I finally have an angsty story that I'm happy with. Maybe now, I can steer Into the Fire in the right direction. Sorry about the delay for you few people who are reading it, but as I said before...writer's block. Anyway, owls are, as always, quite welcome in my inbox at mtfbwya@pacbell.net. |8o)  



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